The Great Redeemer
by Remnant Stars
Summary: Pacific Rim AU: Rita Vrataski, a seasoned veteran in the war against the Mimics has lost another drift partner. She is thrown together with William Cage, a Major with no clue how to fight. Will they learn to work together and survive? Or will Cage become just another casualty in his quest for redemption for the sins of his past? Rating is merely a precaution...
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be different than my other EoT fics. A plot** **bunny attacked me recently and I had to write a potential summary to nail it down: Pacific Rim AU. Rita has been piloting the near-relic Jaegar _Gipsy Danger_ since the beginning of the Mimic war, surviving through five partners. Her newest partner/co-pilot is William Cage, an arrogant rookie thrown into the war because of simple desperation. He is forced to fight by Rita's side. Changed elements of my original idea to fit EoT's story a little more. Still working out the kinks since I haven't seen _Pacific Rim_ in forever (despite owning it) but I think it's promising.**

**The idea is more AU than true crossover, leaning heavily towards Edge of Tomorrow with Pacific Rim elements thrown in. Hence it is not in crossover section**

**This idea wouldn't leave me alone, and I figured it was time to get back into some writing after the holidays! As usual, I have no beta so all mistakes are my own!**

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She was an anomaly. Rita Vrataski was often called "The Full Metal Bitch" behind her back. Not that she didn't hear the whispers, didn't notice the stares when she walked around the compound. Not that she blamed them for the moniker.

She was a bitch. It was the only way she knew how to be. The only way she knew how to survive. The war with the Mimics had been ongoing for several years by this point. She was one of the first volunteers, joining the UDF when she was twenty-one. Her parents had died in one of the earliest Mimic attacks, in a research facility by the ocean while studying the phenomenon that was the portal by the ocean floor. She was now twenty-eight and she'd outlived all but one of her partners. The only one who'd bowed out of the program, rather than died was Hendricks. The mention of his name still made her flinch.

Today she was finally going to meet her latest co-pilot. She knew nothing about the man, wondered how reliable he would turn out to be. Her third partner, Cruz had been the last willing person to be partnered with her. She was a death omen and even Hendricks had learned to despise her at the end. But she was the greatest asset that the UDF had, having thousands of Mimic deaths under her belt after so many years of service.

The first sight of the man wasn't what she expected. He was good-looking but surely several years too old to be the rookie they'd stated he was. And a major. The first glimpse of his eyes darting nervously darting around the room had her on edge. It was never a good sign when they were nervous to meet her. He looked like he wanted to escape. Despite his fidgeting, Rita was certain she'd seen the man before, perhaps even met him.

She nodded at him as she approached, grunting a greeting that was barely discernible. She didn't expect this one to make it past the trial drift. With each search she'd been through dozens of potential co-pilots before actually settling on one. Her first drift partner, Jamie, had taken so long to find that she'd almost flunked the program. But he'd turned out to be her most loyal and dearest friend. His death only three years ago had nearly torn her apart. Their relationship wasn't only unique as one of the first pairs to pilot a Jaegar, but also because their partnership had lasted so long before his death. Four years, which didn't seem like much. But a Jaegar pilot's lifespan was considerably shortened by the war. She'd survived seven years, only a handful of people lasting as long as she. And most of them had retired from front line combat. But she couldn't, not until she was dead or the war was over.

The man, William Cage, stuck out a hand for her to shake. She almost ignored the gesture, taking it belatedly as he moved to drop his hand. As a result, she seemed to lift his hand towards her rather than shake it, clasping his hand in a way that was much too familiar for her taste. The handshake lasted maybe a few seconds, but her hand clenched at her side from the warmth of his grip.

"Rita Vrataski," she muttered by way of introduction. The man nodded, but lines creased in his forehead in brief confusion.

"William Cage," he offered. "We've met before."

Rita wanted to deny it but she reminded herself his face was familiar. Her brow furrowed as she considered where they could have met. Until it dawned on her with rising amusement that they had met once before. On a bloody television show. William Cage, a Major in the US military was also a propaganda piece. He actively recruited droves of young recruits to the war, promised glory, honor and a place in history. He lied to thousands of people with every smile, every scripted line out of his mouth. She'd loathed the man from the moment she'd met him. He'd been charismatic and charming, and it had taken everything she had to hide her irritation. It was the only interview she'd done. The bureaucrats said she'd come off as unlikeable, as untrustworthy rather than mysterious, as weary rather than accomplished. The entire thing was a bunch of bullshit and she'd been grateful when it ended. She'd promptly forgotten William Cage. Until now.

"Yes," she finally uttered. "I remember."

Cage nodded diplomatically but she could still see the nervous energy that had him shifting from foot to foot. "Yes, well, it was awhile ago." But he'd never forgotten the meeting with Rita.

"Are you here to bring me to my drift partner?" Rita wondered. She really couldn't see her superiors thinking that William Cage anywhere near a Jaegar was a good idea.

Cage shook his head once in the negative, his fingers moving idly at his sides. "No actually. I'm your partner. Or, I might be, if the trial is successful." She could tell that he was hoping just as fervently as she was that it wasn't.

Rita had nothing against Cage personally. But he wasn't a soldier, had gotten his rank by pandering rather than actual achievement. He was a liability. But she understood why her superiors would be desperate enough to consider him. She'd lost five partners, four in the past three years. She was a pariah. Though the loss had been through no fault of her own. She'd fought as best as she could, tried to save the men that had stood beside her in their Jaegar. And she'd lost them all the same. Worse yet, she survived when she'd wished to die beside them. She'd only learned to disconnect from the shared drift after experiencing her first two partners deaths. They would haunt her for the rest of her life.

"Yes," she finally agreed, seeing no other choice. "We'll see." She gestured for him to proceed her.

She entered the room with apprehension. Her Jaegar, _Gipsy Danger_, was already set up and simply waiting for them to enter it. She gave General Brigham a perfunctory nod, barely hiding her dislike of the man. Master Sergeant Farell received a small smile and she noted with affection that his neatly trimmed mustache twitched as he hid his smile. Dr. Carter grasped her shoulder and shook it lightly in encouragement. He knew how much these searches took out of her, how much anguish she hid every time they found someone new for her to partner with. But no matter how much she hated herself for it, her body thrummed in anticipation. She was determined to end the war or die trying. And she needed a drift partner to do that with.

She suited up quickly, watching with wry amusement as Cage struggled to get himself into the jacket that coordinated Gipsy's left side controls. Dr. Carter stepped forward to help, rolling his eyes in her direction at Cage's clumsy attempts. It looked like he didn't think Cage would be a match either.

Rita calmed her mind, closing her eyes to focus herself as_ Gipsy_ was brought online. She could hear Cage's harsh breathing beside her.

"Slow your breathing," she advised. "Empty your thoughts. It will help."

She glanced over as Cage's breathing slowed. His eyes were closed and his brow furrowed as he concentrated. She worried that he would lose control during the drift. It was always the nervous ones that lost control. And yet she'd learned how to bring them back with minimal trouble. It had taken more than a dozen accidents and near-misses for her to gain complete control over the drift. Cage would be only one more face among dozens in her search for a partner.

Dr. Carter counted down to them, Gipsy powering up with a low hum. She'd been repaired and upgraded more than half a dozen times in the years since her first mission. It was a miracle she was still running, and competing with the dozens of other Jaegars that fought against the Mimics. But Dr. Carter loved her as much, if not more than, Rita did. He made sure she always got the best upgrades first. Rita sighed in contentment as the humming of Gipsy vibrated in her bones. She felt a jolt of cold flow through her mind as they started the drift, and Cage's thoughts invaded her own.

It was the moment she hated and feared more than anything. The drift was a very private place, a river of thoughts and memories flowing between the two of them and threatening to consume them both. Everything Rita was, every memory she had, every death she'd experienced was Cage's to see, to feel and analyze. She figured it was one of the many reasons she had such a hard time dealing with the search for a partner. It felt too personal. And yet this time it was different. Often it was her memories that threatened to drown them, her potential partner's lives relatively unscathed next to hers. And yet she found herself pulled from her painful past and thrown into Cage's.

He was thinking of the first time they met. She was beautiful to him, if cold and reserved. He was curious about the woman who'd killed so many Mimics and lost a partner in turn. It had only been one partner then, only Jamie to mourn, though she'd lost Matthew only a few short months later. It was disconcerting to see their meeting through both perspectives. She'd barely remembered the man, and yet her memories were relived with acute detail. She felt the hum of awareness he'd felt when her hand had shaken his. She'd felt her own derision for the man she saw as nothing more than General Brigham's pawn. She'd yearned to touch her own face, to stroke her cheek to see if it was as soft as it looked. She yearned for freedom from General Brigham and the indiscretions of her past, the chance to start anew. The chance to be simply herself and not that face of the war. The guilt and yearning flowed through her in equal measure. And Rita only belatedly realized that despite the similarity to her own desires, the feelings were not her own. Her only indiscretion had been surviving, when others had not. She lost herself in an insignificant thread then, a foray into Cage's past to search for the mistakes that seemed to have cost him so much. He felt chained to duty, to the job of recruiting thousands to their deaths. Jaegars were a last resort. So many women and men were sent before them, to clear a path as cannon fodder. So many died before Rita every stepped on the battlefield. And Cage felt the weight of their deaths, so heavy Rita started to lose herself to the guilt and pain.

It was Cage that pulled her back, tugged her from the memory that would allow her access to his deepest shame. She struggled against his hold, desperate to see why his pain was so similar to her own, how a man who had everything could be so broken. Just like her.

She didn't get the chance, as Cage righted the connection between them, stabilizing it with determination. She felt the horror dawn on him when he belatedly realized what he'd done. He'd secured the drift, connecting them successfully to Gispy and to each other.

Rita reacted without thought, testing the connection with eager abandon. Cage's tormented past was brushed to the side, to be analyzed later. She flexed her mental muscles, holding onto the drift as if her life depended on it. Her body moved of it's own accord, and the Gipsy's right side complied accordingly. The crew had backed out of the hangar, giving them space to test their abilities. She felt adrenaline coursing through her veins, and a fair dose of confusion. She'd never found a drift partner on the first try, and without any preliminary combat practice. She poked at Cage's mind. He seemed to be frozen in shock. He was firmly grounded in their connection but he seemed to be having trouble believing it. She prodded him mentally, trying to push him towards reacting. Gipsy had taken a step forward, her right arm coming up in a defensive stance, but Cage was controlling Gipsy's left side and it remained immobile.

"Cage?" she finally voiced her frustration with his inactivity. She looked towards him, noticing that his face was pale. She wanted to wave her hand in front of his face, but she was stuck in the jacket, just as he was. "Cage!"

Finally he looked towards her, blinking way his dazed expression as he focused on her. "Yes?'

Rita waved Gipsy's right arm, knowing Cage felt the movement, the slight ping of feedback as their thoughts slid together. "Can you move?"

Cage frowned, concentrating on making the huge Jaegar move. Rita wanted to laugh as he remained still. "You need to move as well. You move, Gipsy moves." she stated as if it were obvious.

Cage flushed but he took a small step, his leg straining against the weight of the jacket. She frowned as he began to move gingerly, Rita reacting in counterpart without thought. They reached a balance quickly, moving together without difficulty, beyond Cage's obvious struggle with the jacket. They were anchored into Gipsy via a heavy frame that they called a jacket. It was cumbersome, but was able to be disconnected from the Jaegar if they ever needed to leave her behind. It was outfitted with a machine gun on one arm, and a missile cannon on the other. Spare clips were strapped to their legs, an explosive device strapped to their chest if they were ever ripped from the Gipsy. A quick death that was sure to take at least their attacking Mimic with them. Jamie had gone that way, detonating the explosive a second too late as the Mimic teared into his chest. All in an attempt to distance her from the explosion and spare her his fate, at the expense of her feeling his last moments of terror, the pain that threatened to consume her, and the maddening void when he was gone. It was the void that had threatened her sanity for so long. To be so close to someone, to have that person become an extension of herself, and to have it ripped from her in seconds. The Gipsy had been under repair for four months after that, Rita barely able to make it to base before collapsing.

Rita concentrated on Cage the entire run of their trial, watching him for both mental and physical strain. She was once again doubting his choice as her partner. Despite their relatively easy transition into drifting, Cage seemed ill equipped physically to handle the demands of piloting a Jaegar. In an hour of simply walking around the hangar and moving their arms around, his face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. She worried that in combat, he wouldn't be able to follow through on the simplest maneuvers and attacks without overexerting himself.

She called it quits when his gasping breaths were all she could hear, drowning out even the communication between Dr. Carter and herself over their headsets.

Rita tried to be encouraging, to feel optimistic for Cage's sake, but the nature of drifting meant he could feel her doubt despite her greatest efforts to hide it. To have a successful partnership, they needed to trust each other and their actions implicitly and react accordingly.

Cage was helped out of his jacket by Dr. Carter, the flush on his face deepening due to his embarrassment at his own inadequacy. Rita shrugged out of her own jacket easily but waited for Cage. Farell waited for her with raised eyebrows. After every trial drift, even the successful ones, Rita was known to be the first to leave, requiring space to process what she'd learned. And yet she felt sympathetic towards Cage. He shouldn't be here, that much she'd managed to glimpse from his memories. General Brigham had something on Cage, though those thoughts had been buried deep enough that Rita wouldn't see them without digging. And Cage would have sensed her in his darkest memories and shoved her out before she'd discovered anything.

Her thoughts were interrupted by General Brigham's booming voice. "Congratulations, Vrataski! A winner on the first go." He seemed oblivious to Cage's heaving chest, or purposely ignored it as his smiled widened alarmingly. "I couldn't have hoped for a better outcome." He clapped his hands together, rubbing them together gleefully as he ordered his men to desist their search for more potential driftmates for Rita.

Rita wanted to protest his easy dismissal of Cage's issues, and yet with a glance at Cage's imploring eyes, she kept her mouth firmly shut. Cage looked astounded and slightly desperate at her inaction, and she wondered at it herself. Cage was not an ideal candidate, yet whatever Brigham had on him wouldn't simply go away if she rejected him. He would take his pound of flesh one way or another, perhaps throwing Cage on the frontlines. This way at least, with hours of rigorous training, he had a hope of survival.

In Sgt. Farell's own words, "Battle is the great redeemer." Cage would find either redemption or death in the war against the Mimics. She was already certain which fate would be his, though his redemption might come after his death. The guilt threatened to overwhelm her for a moment, but she wouldn't back down. Cage had been volunteered, whether willingly or not wasn't her concern. He was a match. It was her job to make sure he was ready to fight. Her hope, deeply buried, that he might survive.

**So...Good? Bad? Meh? Please let me know if it's worth continuing. It's an idea I'm considering turning into an multi-chapter fic. **


	2. Chapter 2

**So, while I do adore the characters in the movie, this is decidedly OOC. And a little short. Still trying to get a feel for the tone of the story so bear with me! Hope you enjoy!**

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She walked him to his new room, conveniently or rather, more disturbingly across from her own. As if his partnership with her was already predetermined. And maybe it was. General Brigham seemed entirely too smug about the entire thing. Rita had been concerned that she and Cage had never undergone the pretrial assessment usually required before even stepping into the Jaegar. And yet they were so compatible. How could he have known they would work so well together? Or maybe he simply hadn't cared either way, planning to keep them together no matter the outcome. She was aware of the growing suspicion, and stigma attached to her name. Rita Vrataski, "The Angel of Verdun," a woman who'd killed hundreds of Mimics, saving just as many with her actions, and yet following after the wake of the Mimics destruction, like an avenging angel. The name made her sick.

Rita was lost in her thoughts, walking without paying much attention to her surroundings or the man beside her. Not that she needed to. She'd walked this path more than enough times in the past several years to be able to walk it with her eyes closed. She felt no need to speak to Cage, either to reassure him or get to know him. When his voice interrupted her thoughts, she glanced at him in startled surprise.

"Sgt. Vrataski?"

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to thank you." Cage cleared his throat, his steps faltering as they neared their assigned rooms.

She raised an eyebrow, his gratitude a first from one of her partners. No one wanted to die, and with her their fate had been almost guaranteed.

"For?" She wondered.

"For everything." Cage nodded once, as if reassuring himself. "You know enough...have seen enough to realize that my relationship with Brigham isn't exactly friendly. Dr. Carter was determined that I go through the usual assessments before even attempting the drift with you. The General obviously overrode him." He smiled wryly. "Obviously, Dr. Carter has the final say on whether I'm partnered with you, compatibility or not. With one word from you, he would have shut down any chance I had. Yet you didn't voice your obvious doubts."

Rita would not apologize about her very valid concerns about Cage, but she frowned in confusion. "But I thought..."

"That I didn't want to join the Jaegar program?"

Rita nodded.

Cage laughed, the noise sharp and bitter. "I'm a coward. I've never claimed to be otherwise. And yet, the only other option was the front lines. Brigham was..._generous _enough to give me a chance to prove some worth. Either way, I'm dead. The only difference is the time line."

Rita tilted her head, contemplating his admission. A coward? She'd felt his fear in spades during the drift. But he'd been determined to fight one way or another. Terrified? Yes, Cage was. She would hold judgment on whether he was a coward until she'd seen him fight on the front lines.

"We'll see," she murmured noncommittally. "Maybe you'll be the first of my partners to survive." With that last thought Rita said goodnight, gesturing to his new room with a wave before closing her door on his stricken expression.

The next morning she was up before first light, her blood pumping adrenaline through her veins. She felt the familiar stirrings of anticipation and dread at the fight before her. She and Cage would be on the battlefield sooner rather than later, the world in desperate need of the few Jaegars they had. And she still needed to get him in shape.

Rita knocked on his door before five, eager to start their training. Eagerness turned to nervous energy, and finally to annoyance as Cage failed to answer the door after several minutes. It took her pounding on the door for two minutes straight before the man finally opened the door with bleary-eyed confusion. She refused to admit, even to herself, that his hair looked adorably mussed as it lay flat on one side of his head and stuck straight out on the other. _Hendricks_, she reminded herself. And any thought of Cage being adorable was shoved out of her head.

"Sgt. Vrataski?" Cage blinked owlishly and looked around her, clearly wondering why she was banging on his door at quarter to five in the morning.

"Your hair is too long," she commented. And it was. The buzz cut military image often portrayed in movies and television wasn't an exaggeration. Or much of one.

"So is yours," countered Cage without thought. He was still trying to figure out why Rita was at his door, dressed for combat. Sudden panic gripped him at the implication. Had they been called for duty already? His thoughts tried to sluggishly catch up with the sudden surge of adrenaline, and he felt the beginnings of a migraine.

Rita scowled, her fingers straying to the tendrils of hair that had stubbornly escaped her bun, tucking them behind her ear. "We've got combat training."

"At five in the morning?" Cage looked incredulous. He'd rarely gone to sleep before midnight, waking well after seven in the morning. The thought of doing anything but sleeping before then was bewildering.

"At five in the morning." confirmed Rita with an eye roll. Honestly, she was already resisting the urge to smack the dumb expression off Cage's face and she'd known him less than a day.

"It's the middle of the night," protested Cage.

Rita had no patience for the amount of idiocy she was witnessing and she tapped her foot impatiently. "No, it's the morning and you're making us late for training. Now get in your room, shower, get dressed, do whatever you have to. I expect you outside your door in twenty minutes." She stomped back to her room, slamming the door. She could care less about who she woke, assuming they'd already been woken up by her incessant knocking on Cage's door. And she could care less that Cage outranked her.

Fifteen minutes later she was knocking on Cage's door again, and this time he actually answered the door after only a few seconds. He was dressed in similar clothing as she was, his hair still wet and combed back.

"You're early." he commented.

"No, you're late." Rita turned and started walking down the hall. Cage caught up to her, his steps matching hers. She could tell by the scowl on his face that he was irritated by her brusque tone, but she could care less. She needed him in fighting form when they faced the Mimics, or they'd be dead in five minutes. She ignored the niggling thought that maybe it would be for the best, a relief after so many years of fighting. She refused to be morbid, even about her own death.

"Where are we going?" Cage asked after a few minutes of oppressing silence.

"You need training, a lot of it. So we're going to be doing that, until you're ready to fight, or until they call on us, whatever comes first."

"And you'll be the one to do it?" Cage asked, unconvinced that he was even capable of learning.

Rita nodded once. "There's no one else," she confirmed. "Everyone is already fighting, or soon to be. The Mimics are gaining ground. We need every man and woman on the ground that we can afford."

Cage swallowed hard at the news. Fear and an odd sense of anticipation fought together. He didn't want to die, and yet it would be a relief. William Cage, the coward, finally getting what he deserved. And General Brigham could no longer have any control over a dead man.

Their training session was both entirely what Rita expected, and extremely disheartening. Cage had an innate ability for self-preservation but his skills seemed nonexistent, his reaction time markedly dire. She attributed some of it to his lack of training and discipline, some of it to his age (forty years old was not the optimum age to be training a body used to an excess amount of idyllic activity, even if he was in good shape), and the rest to his inability to concentrate. His focus was splintered in the first half an hour as he grew frustrated with his own inadequacy. She told him repeatedly to _concentrate_, to _focus_. The command worked for about five minutes until he was wallowing in self-pity once again. She admitted that this would be easier if he'd had even the basic knowledge, but his rank was a symbol rather than a badge of merit and ability.

And he couldn't shoot worth a damn. It disgusted her that he was even in the military. But she forced her anger aside, in the name of cooperation. She needed Cage to pilot Gipsy. And Cage sure as hell needed her. So she would push him past his own issues, shove her doubts aside and drag them both towards the finish line if she had to.

At noon she finally called it, any proficiency Cage had gained was slowly being lost as they grew increasingly aggravated with each other. She was snapping at him, Cage mulishly ignoring her direct commands when she threw up her hands in defeat.

"Fine Cage! Have it your way." She stormed from the room, wiping tears of frustration from her eyes as Cage watched with belated remorse.

Rita wasn't surprised when she heard a hesitant knock on her door a short time later. She ignored it, choosing to bury her face in her pillow. The knocking persisted, until she heard Cage's voice.

"Sgt. Vrataski? I know you're in there." She rolled her eyes. Of course she was in here. She just didn't want to see him. "Rita? I just want to apologize."

Rita sighed in resignation, rolling out of bed and to her feet. She opened the door to see Cage's penitent expression. "What?"

"I'm sorry." Cage started. "I should have listened to you."

"Yeah, you should have." She waited for more, her body blocking Cage from entering her room. He shifted from one foot to another, his eyes staring at the wall behind her.

"It's just...I'm not a soldier."

Her quirked eyebrow seemed to say, _oh really? I wouldn't have guessed._

"And...and I know I'm better, that I should be better but I can't stop thinking about what's going to happen out there. We're dead. I know it. You know it."

Rita took pity on his miserable expression, stepping to the side and gesturing for him to enter. He sat at the lone chair by her desk, Rita dropping onto her bed.

"Look Cage, you can do this. I know you can. And I'm not just saying it to placate you. You just need to-"

"Focus." Cage interjected with a wry smile. "I got that."

Rita nodded. "You're not going to be the best, but we'll be in Gipsy. As long as you can move and react without having a panic attack or losing your breath, we have a chance."

"And what about your other partners?" Cage challenged her.

Rita flinched at the reminder, the screams and empty void haunting her. "Fate is cruel," was her only comment. And a bitch. That they'd died and she was still here was something she might never come to terms with.

"Fate _is_ cruel," Cage agreed bitterly. "So we do what we can, the best we can and hope we make it out of this bloody war alive and intact. Is that your suggestion?"

Rita shrugged. "And kill as many Mimics as we can along the way."

Cage's shoulders squared, his resolve hardening in front of her eyes as he nodded his assent. "I'll do better," he promised. "And I'll focus."

"All I'm asking." Rita murmured, suddenly tired with the entire thing.

Cage stood and walked to her door, turning before he exited. "I'm sorry about the others. I shouldn't have brought them up."

"So am I." was her only reply. She didn't notice when the door quietly clicked shut, lost once again in thoughts of the past.

**So a rough start for the pair but it'll get better, I promise! Let me know what you think...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A note to readers: I suck at writing any sort of battle or fight scene. I'll work on it...until then you get this supremely over-dramatic scene that has me cringing. Hopefully it doesn't turn anyone away from the story itself. **

**I have no beta so all mistakes are my own. **

**_Conn-Podd: Cockpit of the Jaegar. Basically the head of the huge robot._**  
**_Plasmacaster, also known as a Plasma Cannon: A particle dispersal cannon that fires a beam of charged plasma via a carrier rail (taken directly from the Pacific Rim wiki page)_**

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The call came all too soon. They'd been training for mere days, Cage nowhere near ready to fight. They'd been in Gipsy Danger only half a dozen times together and yet the connection was easily sought and maintained, _strong_. But Cage had only worked with the Jacket when necessary. Rita regretted it now when they suited up in Gipsy and she watched as he struggled into his Jacket, this time without Dr. Carter's assistance. If they had to abandon Gipsy then he would have a hard time...but she pushed those thoughts away.

She breathed in deeply, her entire body relaxing as the hum of Gipsy vibrated in her bones. Home. Gipsy was home. She heard Cage's breaths, harsh as he tried to calm himself.

"Focus," she murmured.

She heard Carter's voice, counting down. And then the cold shock of the drift. Cage's thoughts were familiar, his history still hidden, not out of his fear to share, but out of her own reticence. She didn't need to know why he considered himself a coward.

They'd been taking short jaunts in Gipsy, each trek leading deeper and deeper into the ocean. The beaches were the last strongholds they had the world over. The Mimics attacked from the water, fast enough that there was little warning. But if they lost the beaches, then they lost everything. The facility the Jaegars were stationed at was empty of the Mimic's presence. They were too far north, and there seemed to be nothing of value in the cold wasteland of the north. The beach was really nothing more than a thin strip of rocks beside the ocean. The Jaegar needed to airlifted to their destination.

They were dropped into the ocean off the coast of France. Ground troops were already on the beaches but were being decimated. There were already two other Jaegars at the site but the Mimics seemed to be overwhelming them, the shouts and chaos eclipsed by the powerful blows as Jaegars struck and threw Mimics from one end of the beach to the other. It was why Jaegars were a last resort. Battle with them was messy, dangerous and all-consuming. Your field of sight in a Jaegar was limited, sensors detecting the distinct difference between human heat signatures and Mimics but war was chaotic. Who knew how many soldier's deaths were caused by a Mimic thrown by a Jaegar? But Jaegars were expensive to build and sustain. It took time to find and train the right people to pilot the machine.

Rita had heard too many doubts about the Jaegar program. There was a recent push to mass produce Jackets and put every soldier on the ground in one and to slowly phase out the Jaegar program. The plan had been marginally successful, Mimic deaths on the rise and casualties for the UDF on the decline. And yet, the Mimics kept coming, their forces seemed unending. The UDF touted their victories and still Rita felt that they were celebrating too soon. The Mimics pouring out of the portal under the ocean were growing larger, faster, more resilient.

Rita knew she and people like her, dedicated and skilled Jaegar pilots were the only reason that the Jaegar program was still functioning. She had more Mimic deaths under her belt than any person alive. And she wouldn't have been able to kill so many with simply her Jacket.

She was brought out of contemplation by the jarring landing into the ocean's depths. She heard Cage swearing beside her and spared him a quick glance. His face was bone white, his head shaking once to clear his thoughts and orientate himself with their surroundings. She sent him thoughts of encouragement through the drift and he returned her smile with a shaky one of his own. There was no time for reassurances as she felt the first Mimic attacking Gipsy on her side. The crash of metal clashing was muffled by their reinforced Jaegar frame but they were thrown a little to the side as another Mimic attacked from the rear.

Rita reacted immediately, releasing her blade with a practiced flick of her wrist and swinging at the nearest Mimic. Cage's reaction was slightly delayed. Another Mimic erupted from the water and attacked Gipsy's Conn-Pod and Cage finally activated Gipsy's Plasmacaster, striking out at the Mimic before it could tear into the cockpit. The Mimic was hardly deterred, thrown backwards but returning quickly to the attack. The Mimic's reinforced tendrils wove around Gipsy's Conn-Pod, tightening until the metal began to bend with a loud screech. Cage brought his arm up, striking a devastating blow to the Mimic, his Plasmacaster slowly burning into the Mimic's frame, bluish blood burning through Gipsy like acid. Rita was desperately fighting off the other Mimics, having killed three but they were slowly being overwhelmed by over a dozen to take their place.

They weren't the only ones in a dire situation. Mimics were attacking Jaegars and soldiers in unending droves. Those that were put down seemed to have several more to replace them in an onslaught of twisting metal flowing from the sea in a wave of destruction. They had no chance, and Rita had the briefest wits about her to realize that it was over. They were going to die.

Still she fought, catching Mimics on her blade and rending them limb from writhing limb as Cage fired shot after shot into the Mimic that seemed determined to wrest the Conn-Pod from Gipsy's body. There was a final tearing of metal against metal as the Mimic finally succeeded despite Cage's best efforts.

Rita had time for very few thoughts after that. _Th__is__ entire battle was short-lived. They were going to die. She would have liked to know Cage better._ Everything else was lost to her.

She might have lived or died. She might have woken to a world under Mimic rule, or she might have succumbed in unconscious relief, spared from a worse fate. But something else happened instead.

Cage was stricken by a mindless terror. If these were to be the last moments of his life he had one desire. If his own mind had let him see past the cloud of adrenaline-fueled fear he might have wished for more. All he wanted in his final moments was to kill the monster that was threatening him. He fired so many shots into the Mimic that finally it faltered, but not before it had succeeded at essentially beheading Gipsy so that the entire floor was ripped from beneath Rita, her Jacket restraints torn apart. His last glimpse of Rita Vrataski was her eyes, wide and dark and filled with a dreaded resignation as she fell far to the beach below.

Cage felt the blow of the Conn-Pod hitting the sand, the breath knocked from his lungs as his knees buckled beneath him. He fell forward abruptly, his Jacket so mangled around him that he had no chance to brace for impact or even attempt to soften his landing. His mouth was open in a silent scream, until the beach was all he was breathing, lungs straining as he labored to get air into his lungs, and succeeded in swallowing only grit and sand particles.

The Mimic was not dead yet. He was thrown one last time, landing on his back, and feeling the sharp pain of metal as it pierced his spine, and then blessedly nothing. Nothing but terror as the Mimic dragged itself towards him, determined to end him before it died. There were tears on Cage's face, but he could not close his eyes against his fate. It was only in that moment that he remembered the explosives strapped to his chest. His last resort. He managed a smile, wild and crazed as he pulled the pins from his chest._ For Rita_, he thought, her dark eyes the last image in his head.

Unknown to either Cage or Rita was that this Mimic was different. If Rita had a moment to study it she might have realized it at once. This Mimic, this Alpha was larger by almost double than the others. And it's frame, it's body was tinged a metallic blue like it's blood. The Mimics had never intended to lose this war. And the properties of their blood ensured they never would. Yet Cage was changed by the blood that splashed on his face in his dying moments. He never felt the burn as his flesh was melted away from his skull. He never heard his own dying screams.

William Cage woke up on the morning before the battle with a terrible knowledge. He woke up, paralyzed by his own memories and wondering just how far he'd fallen into insanity.

**Well I got a giggle at my terrible writing, how 'bout you? Review? And if anyone has any suggestion how to fix up this chapter it would be appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

**First things first (Dammit, you ruined that saying for me Iggy), Rita has not reset in this story, and I'm not sure how I'll proceed with the idea, when she becomes aware of the resets. Because of this, I'm very hesitant to read Believe24's _Double Reset_ in case I accidentally borrow some ideas. (I haven't read it yet?! I was saving it for a special occasion. It does seem to have enough attention that it will be worth the read and I try not to start stories that are in-progress)**

**Secondly, I enjoy POV changes for these two characters, without hopefully repeating scenes too often. POV changes are indicated by a page break to make it less confusing.**

* * *

The dreams plagued Cage. Dreams of another life, the same day over and over. Rita was alive, and that was all that would reassure him. Rita was alive. He'd never had to see the expression on her face just before her death, sometimes fear, or anguish or perhaps worst, resignation. As if she knew this moment was coming. And he was powerless to stop it.

He wondered if he was truly insane, waking up day after day, dying over a dozen times already. Only to wake up in the same room, heart pounding, gasping breaths forced from his lungs. But he kept it together enough to realize that Rita could know nothing of his dreams or hallucinations. It helped that even during the drift she was closed off from him. The most they shared was surface thoughts, though those were damning enough in Cage's case. He had a desperate need to keep her safe, so he pushed himself to be better than he was. And no matter the times he'd died,_ failed_ Rita in the worst way, his mind remembered what he'd learned. Every time Rita threw him on his ass was a feedback of what he should have done, what he _would_ do next time. Always next time. And he improved, inch by hard won inch. Until Rita would stare at him with a quizzical expression, with disbelieving eyes as he blocked an attack. He could not be called skilled yet, but he could be deemed adequate. And Rita was puzzled by his leaps and bounds in such a short time.

It was a curse and blessing. He always woke on the same day, in the same moment. He could hardly remember the day that was before this moment, when his training had been going dismally, when Rita had stormed off the floor with aggravation after every session. He had to remind himself that for Rita it had only been a few short hours between saying goodnight and knocking on the door for another day of training. For Cage it had been two weeks. Two weeks of death, though the exact method changed with every passing day. And she was beginning to watch him closely, her eyes filled with faint suspicion. It was Rita's reactions to him that finally convinced him that whatever was happening was real. He'd known of course, but he'd shoved the knowledge of what this could mean deep down. How could he possibly deal with the idea that only he was reliving the same day over and over?

Rita knocked on his door to wake him up. As usual, he'd woken up a few hours before, taking the intervening moments before the knock to mentally come to terms with his newest death. He needed the time to analyze every second, to plan for the next move without losing track of his previous movements during the battle on the beach. It was getting harder and harder to memorize everything. So this was the first time since he'd established some semblance of habit that Rita had to knock more than once before he opened the door.

"Why did you take so long to answer the door?" Rita asked immediately. "You usually..." She trailed off in confusion. "Wait, never mind." She shook her head to clear it and gestured for him to follow her.

Cage's eyes widened in sudden trepidation. Could she be remembering with him? Every time he'd answered the door either just before she knocked or as soon as the first knock sounded she'd been surprised. Or a little apprehensive, so he'd stopped opening the door in anticipation of her knock. It had always been Rita banging on the door until he answered, every morning before the beaches. One day for her, and too many bleeding together for him.

He watched her closely, his nerves on edge as he looked for any indication that he wasn't the only one living through this madness. But after that slip on her part, she was back to normal. Normal being her usual no nonsense commitment to training him with no communication beyond the necessary. But he was becoming used to the wall she placed between them. He understood it. He'd died enough times to know that her fear of his death was well-founded. If she befriended him, cared for him at all, it was only setting her up for heartache when he died. That didn't mean he didn't try to chip away at the wall, little by little.

* * *

Cage was watching her again. It was unnerving. Their day began at the same time, before five in the morning. Today she felt a sense of urgency when they started their session, almost as if something was about to happen. She pushed Cage hard, harder than she had before, not checking her blows, nicking him a few times with the blade she carried when she was wearing her jacket. He should have been hard pressed to keep up with her, but he wasn't. It was as if he anticipated every move and reacted without thought. Still, they were both sweating and breathing heavily when she decided on a break a couple hours later. The sun still hadn't risen in the cold temperate of the north, but she felt the need to escape the confined space of the room they used to train.

"I need some air," Rita announced, bracing her hands on her knees as she breathed in.

Cage was currently crouched on the ground, tying his laces. His head snapped up at her statement, something akin to shock written in his eyes.

"Air?' He uttered, eyes comically wide.

Rita snorted at his expression. "Yes, Cage. Air. This room is too hot. I'm heading outside." She tugged a sweater over her head. Just as she was ready to leave, Cage stopped her with an arm on her shoulder.

"Rita...Sgt. Vrataski, you can't leave yet."

Rita shrugged off his hand, irritation at Cage making her step back from him. "And why can't I?" She glared, waiting for him to provide a valid excuse.

Rita had the feeling that he was hiding something from her all morning. She'd felt an odd prickling of anticipation when she'd knocked on Cage's door that morning. Not banged, as she had every morning, but knocked. She could try and convince herself that it was merely out of a sense of consideration. They'd been training for days without rest. And Cage had to be used to the banging by now, didn't he? When she'd knocked, she'd expected an immediate response despite her improbable rationalization. But it took him awhile to answer. One knock, two, three, until anxiety was coiling in the pit of her stomach. And she didn't know why. He'd never answered the door right away, being such a heavy sleeper.

And when he'd answered, with alert eyes and mussed hair, the words had just slipped out. "Why did you take so long to answer the door. You usually..." And she'd stopped, confused at her own words. Cage never answered the door right away and he'd never looked so awake when doing so, usually appearing heavy-lidded and yawning. Yet, why did it feel like today was an err from their usual schedule, more than any other day? "Never mind." she muttered, gesturing for him to follow.

And the feeling of deja vu had been shadowing her all morning. She should have been shocked at his drastically improved abilities. And she _was_ surprised, but more relieved than anything. And the feeling confused her. So she needed to get out of the room, where Cage wasn't watching her with careful consideration, almost as if he was waiting for something from her. She was driving herself mad and so was he.

"Why can't I?" She repeated with deliberate slowness. She watched panic flare in his eyes as he looked around the room. He glanced at the clock, and something in him relaxed.

"We're not finished training." He spoke as if if were obvious, but it wasn't the reason. Rita knew it, just as she knew they were about to be interrupted. She knew without understanding why, and it irritated the hell out of her.

A young man ran into the room, out of breath as he relayed his message. "The Mimics are attacking the beaches and we're being overrun. The General needs you."

Cage sighed, and Rita wasn't sure if it was out of relief or resignation.

* * *

Cage breathed in deeply, relaxing himself. He heard Rita's voice in his head telling him to _Focus, _just as he'd heard it several times before. He responded without thought. It wasn't until Rita's voice rang in his ears after he'd reassured her that he realized she hadn't actually spoken yet. He was only anticipating it. He glanced to his right, his response dying at the expression on her face. She was staring at him with a mix of anger and confusion.

Cage looked away as Dr. Carter began the countdown. He felt the familiar rush of cool sensation as they entered the drift. Rita's voice drowned out his own thoughts, the turmoil in her head threatening to upset the balance. He was shown more of Rita's history in those few short seconds than he'd ever known before.

* * *

Only Jamie had ever known what she was thinking before she spoke. And that had followed after several months of constant interaction, months of being in each others' thoughts. Jamie had been her best friend. And yet Cage responded to her unspoken words without thought. They hadn't been connected in the drift so there was no way he would have known what she was going to say. He might have guessed, she'd harped on him constantly to focus. It was practically her mantra to him. And yet the oddness of the morning was still fresh in her mind. The way he looked at her, with equal parts relief and determination. The heavy sense that she'd been here before. It was enough to overwhelm her, when she started to receive Cage's thoughts.

_This time I'll get it right. She won't die. Rita. Rita. Rita. RITA!_

She was back in those final moments with Jamie. It should have been routine. Mimics were attacking the coastline off of Alaska. One of the only times they ever did. Jamie and she were stationed in Alaska and it was supposed to be an easy assignment after being thrown in places hardest struck by Mimic attacks. There had been a boat, with a crew of only ten men. They'd been advised to fall back to the mainland, to protect the city of over two million with the rest of the Jaegars. Jamie disagreed with the order. Rita had been against his plan from the start. She felt they should follow orders, to return to the coast and the middle of the battle. She wasn't heartless, but ten men stupid enough to take a boat out in the middle of a storm didn't deserve her pity. The thousands of people currently threatened by the Mimics deserved their protection. But Jamie was adamant. He was set in his ideals, seeing everything in black and white. Saving these men, no matter their stupidity, was right. Leaving them to their fate would have been wrong.

And Rita went with Jamie's plan because he was her friend, because she'd always wished she was as selfless as he was. She was in this war for revenge for her family. Jamie was in it to do what was right, no matter the cost. She admired that.

When they got to the boat, it was dangerously close to being upended by the size of the waves. The sky was black, the night lit only by Gipsy's head-beams and the feeble light provided by the small fishing vessel. They grabbed the boat in Gipsy's palm, eager to take it back to the coast. The Mimics attacked quickly, the warning of Dr. Carter drowned out, coming too late. It was a short battle. They were outnumbered by at least a dozen Mimics. They wrapped themselves around the arms of Gipsy, tearing into the metal and tugging until one was ripped from the body, exposing the Conn-Podd on Jamie's side.

Jamie's screams were the last thing she remembered, loud in her ears, as loud as his voice in her head._I don't want to die. Protect Rita. Run, Rita. Rita! _She'd woken up collapsed on the beach the next morning, still strapped into her jacket, Gipsy's legs resting under the waves of the oncoming tide.

Finally, the alarm signals on the base brought her back to the present. Cage's voice was in her head yelling her name. His voice replaced Jamie's in her head, and she forced herself to come back from her memories. She'd reacted to her memories without thought, bringing out Gipsy's blade in a defensive stance. Luckily the plasmacaster was controlled almost entirely by Cage, and his arm remained firmly at his side. Dr. Carter was shouting to be heard above Cage, demanding to know what had happened.

And the mission was aborted.

Rita protested, certain that her momentary lapse was an aberration and wouldn't be repeated. But Dr. Carter was adamant that she take a breather, at least for the next couple of hours while he studied the data. Even Cage protested at being grounded, which only raised her suspicion. Just the day before he'd been apprehensive about the entire idea of fighting Mimics. Had it been only one night? Rita shoved her doubts away, and concentrated on Cage.

Cage was currently pacing her room while she sat on her bed, her fingers drumming against the sheets. She never would have let him in her room but she felt the need to keep an eye on him. The difference in him from the day before was tangible, something in him fundamentally changed in one night.

But there was one thing she needed to know before anything else.

"Cage." He paused in his stride, turning his face towards her with a raised eyebrow.

"How did you know what I was going to say?"

Cage looked stricken, a multitude of emotions crossing his face before finally settling on dread.

"You won't believe me." He turned away from her before speaking, his voice subdued. Rita could barely understand what he was saying. "I thought I was crazy. Maybe I am. I just know we need to be out there on the beaches. Or everyone dies. But then they die anyway. You die. We all do."

Rita took a deep breath, certain she would regret the words but knowing she couldn't stand for anything else but the truth, or his version of it. "The world is crazy, Cage. Try me."


	5. Chapter 5

**I know it's been months since I updated so I'm sorry for that. I'm not a quick updater by any means, but I really lost the urge to write anything for the last three months. Too much other stuff going on. Thanks for the patience for anyone that is still reading.**

* * *

Cage wondered how many times he would explain this to her, how many resets before the memory would start to blend together with the rest. He wondered if this would be the time that he would truly die, and never have to repeat another day.

"Something is wrong with me." He stated, choosing his words carefully, uncertain how to explain without Rita ridiculing him, or believing he was truly crazy like he'd claimed.

"I know." Rita spoke as if it was obvious, but she was watching him, paying more attention to him than she ever had. "You're different. Different than yesterday. How?"

Cage wasn't sure why he should be surprised. Rita didn't care for him, not like he was beginning to care for her. But why should she? She was right to assume he would die, because he already had so many times. Just because she seemed to loathe his presence in her life and the complications he presented didn't mean she was completely oblivious to him. She was observant enough to realize that no man could improve so drastically after one night of sleep.

Cage was leaning against her wall, his pacing forgotten as he slid to the floor with his head in his hands. How to explain? How to make her understand? He was suddenly afraid of how much her opinion meant to him, how much he cared about what she thought of him. It was ludicrous, but she mattered to him. "It's hard to explain."

He glanced up in time to see Rita roll her eyes in exasperation. "Of course it is." There was an underlying note of sarcasm that got under his skin, his already taut nerves beginning to fray under the pressure of a sudden change in routine. Even a routine as fucked up as his had become.

"It _is_ hard to explain." He let out his breath in exasperation. "It's been a night, only a single night since yesterday. But it feels like so many. I'm starting to forget all the little things that have changed. Or maybe they haven't changed at all?" He lost himself in analyzing the different ways Rita had died, in the amount of time he'd spent grieving for one person on so many different occasions that should have been the same moment.

"You're not making any sense Cage." Rita's tone was fearful, suspicion dawning in her eyes.

"I know." Cage sighed. "Nothing makes sense. You died, and I followed. But not before I took the Mimic with me. Not before I died with his blood burning in my eyes and searing my throat."

"You died?" Rita was trying her best to keep her voice controlled but she could feel it growing louder as a sudden hysteria threatened. Either Cage was crazier than she'd suspected, or something was seriously wrong with both of them. Because something in her mind poked at her, something told her that he was speaking the truth. Not a memory, but a feeling that tugged at her. She _knew._

"I know how it sounds." Cage laughed bitterly. "I thought it was crazy too, at first. I thought I'd lost my mind."

"Why haven't I seen any of it?" she questioned, more to herself than to Cage but he jumped on the question.

"Why is right." he agreed. "Because you block me at every moment, because you know nothing about me, because sharing anything besides surface thoughts during the drift is expressly forbidden."

"Forbidden?" Rita scoffed. "I'd hardly say that."

"Of course it's forbidden!" Cage exploded in frustration. "What I saw today, what little I glimpsed was completely involuntary on your part. You didn't want me to see it, you don't want me to see anything about you. Have I pushed? No. I've wanted to share everything with you. To share with at least one person who could at least verify that I wasn't fucking insane!" Cage had gotten to his feet after the first sentence, his arms gesturing wildly as he ranted. But after his final statement he seemed drained, his shoulders dropping in resignation. "I don't expect to suddenly become your best friend, Rita. I never wanted that. But I did hope for some reassurance, some sign that what I was attempting to fix wasn't futile." He sighed. "I was looking for support, I guess."

Rita's thoughts were swirling in her head, the sudden pounding in her temples doing little to distract her from Cage's words. "I don't understand." She finally said. "I don't understand how I can believe you, and yet I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. What is it that you need to fix?"

Cage opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted before he could speak by the sudden blaring of the alarms, the red light installed above her door flashing. They were under attack.

"Cage." Rita spoke with urgency, "We'll discuss this later. We need to get to Gipsy."

Cage shook his head, his eyes looking past her to something she couldn't see, a moment she'd never experienced. "It's too late." he spoke with regret, his eyes closing briefly. "There's nothing we can do. They're already here."

"Who's already here?" Rita demanded as Cage made no move to react to the alarms. "The Mimics? We need to stop them."

But Cage ignored her, talking to himself. "I've never been here, not when they attacked. But Dr. Carter, I heard him. Heard him when they attacked. You were dead, it was over. By this time the beach is gone."

Rita had no patience for Cage's sudden lapse into memories. She stood from her spot on the edge of her bed, the alarm blaring above her door spurring her to action.

She moved past Cage, shoving the door open, ready to sprint to Dr. Carter and find out what they could do. Cage grabbed her arm, his grip painful as he tried to tug her back into the relative safety of the room.

"What the hell are you doing, Cage?" Rita tried to yank her arm away from him but his grip only tightened.

"Keeping you alive, Rita. Stay here, I'll find Carter."

Rita scowled. "And how the hell do you expect to get Gipsy to work without me?" she demanded.

Cage looked ready to argue but Rita shook her head, silencing him with a glare.

"We don't have time for this Cage." She pulled her arm away from him. "Stay, go. I don't care. We can't hide our heads in the sand forever."

"No, we can't," he agreed, but she had a feeling that he meant something entirely different than she did.

She led the way out of the room, finding it odd that no one else seemed to be around. But then, perhaps the rest of the jaegar pilots and units had been sent out to fight, leaving only support staff behind. Which meant the base was completely vulnerable to the Mimic's attack.

It was far too quiet, the only noise coming from the blaring alarms. They ran towards the hangar where Gipsy and hopefully Dr. Carter were waiting for them. The way was clear, though they had yet to see another person. Rita wanted to call out, for General Brigham, for Sgt. Farell, for Dr. Carter. They at least should still be on the base. But something kept her silent, moving quickly and watching out for anything unusual.

Cage was tense, following her closely enough that she could feel his breaths against her ear and neck. She glanced to her right, realizing that Cage was almost on top of her, colliding with her as she stopped.

"What is it?" Cage whispered.

"Nothing," Rita hissed, motioning for him to fall back a little.

They continued to the hangar with Gipsy, Rita breaking into a run as they finally heard the first noises besides the blaring alarms, Cage tight on her heels as they moved towards a raised voice.

* * *

"They're dead." Dr. Carter seemed in shock, falling heavily into a seat at their appearance.

"Who?" Rita demanded.

"Everyone." Dr. Carter's head dropped into his hands. "Every single Jaegar is gone, and I'm assuming the rest of the soldiers haven't fared any better. We're all that's left."

"Where's Brigham and MSgt. Farell?" Cage was studying the room around them, trying to memorize this moment.

Carter snorted in disgust. "Brigham ran off to his private chopper the moment the alarms started blaring. He's dead. The Mimics attacked the airfield first. Farell went to look for you two. He should be back shortly."

"What are we going to do?" Rita wondered, falling into the nearest seat with a dazed expression. Every Jaegar pilot gone, every soldier she'd ever met, dead.

Dr. Carter looked as lost as she did, shaking his head in wordless confusion.

"Fight," Cage declared. "It's the only thing we _can_ do."

"Didn't you hear me?" asked Carter incredulously. "Everyone's dead. We can't fight an entire Mimic army by ourselves."

"We can try," Cage's face was set with determination.

"Cage," Rita spoke hesitantly. She wanted to agree with him, everything in her telling her to fight until they were all dead, but was that the answer? Their fight seemed futile, but surely they could figure out some way without charging headfirst to their deaths.

"I'm afraid the boy's right," came MSgt. Farell's booming voice.

They all jumped at Farell's sudden appearance, Cage's loud gasp might have been amusing under different circumstances. As it was, Rita merely rolled her eyes, saluting Farell before addressing him.

"Cage's right?" Rita questioned.

Farell grimaced. "I know, never thought I'd see the day I'd agree with Cage, but I see no other option. Carter's right, we're all that's left and we don't have long. The Mimic's are making their way through the compound and killing anyone on sight. There's no time to make plans. If there is any chance any of us is getting out of here it's in Gipsy."

Rita nodded, already moving towards the doors that led to Gipsy. Dr. Carter sprung into action, turning in his seat and typing furiously on the keyboard, preparing to initialize the drop of the Conn-Podd onto Gipsy's body.

"Wait!" Cage's voice caused them all to pause in their actions, Rita shooting him an impatient glare. "Someone has to stay behind."

Rita's face paled, realization dawning in her expression. Someone had to initialize the drop from the operations room. And the only person with the appropriate knowledge was Dr. Carter.

"Then we all stay." Rita petitioned.

"And we all die for nothing," Farell retorted. "This is the only way."

"We're not leaving you to die." Cage was adamant. Even as the fear threatened to choke him, flashbacks of several very painful deaths crossing his mind, he tried to find courage.

They started arguing, Rita's and Cage's shouted denials drowned out by Farell's valid appraisal. Only Dr. Carter could initialize the drop, and only Cage and Rita could operate Gipsy.

"Hey. Hey! RITA!" They all turned towards Carter's raised voice. "Farell's right." He raised his hand to stall more of Rita's denials. "I never said I _wanted _to die. I want to live as much as the next man, so I have a suggestion." He made sure he had their attention. "So Rita and Cage get in Gipsy and suit up. There's more than one armored vehicle in the hangar. Farell and I drive one to the airfield with cover from you two. I've checked the surveillance and there are a few helicopters still intact. If we somehow make it that far, we ride out of here in a chopper, keeping contact with you through radio, and you two can meet us at the nearest safe location."

"It's a suicide mission." Rita stated somberly.

"Never said it wasn't," agreed Dr. Carter. "It's all I got. Unless you have any better ideas?"

"And what about all the people still on base?" Cage asked. "We leave them to die?"

Dr. Carter shook his head sadly, tapping his earpiece. "I've been keeping track of all channels. No one's responded. It would be a miracle if anyone made it out. There weren't many people left at the base as it was and the Mimics attacked so quickly...to put it simply: we weren't prepared."

"Okay," Rita nodded. "If we're going to attempt this, it needs to be now."

* * *

If Cage had learned anything from this particular experience, it was that he never wanted to repeat it. It was a disaster from the beginning. They'd waited too long to act, too long to save anyone. But then, they probably had no chance from the moment the alarms blared.

Dr. Carter's voice was in their ears, the familiarity of protocol settling at least Rita's nerves.

"Okay you two. Here we go."

"Engaging drop.", an automated voice announced as the Conn-Podd was released to fall on the body of the Jaegar.

Cage's nerves were frayed, his stomach dropping as it did every time they went through the drop. Usually the doors to the Conn-Podd were secured on the outside by one of the support workers. But as it was only the four of them, Rita had locked them tight from the inside, punching a code that secured the outer doors automatically.

"Securing the Conn-Podd." The 'head' of the Jaegar was twisted into place, locking onto the rest of Gipsy. Then it was time for the drift, the automated voice guiding them along.

"Initiating neural handshake."

Cage felt a shock of cold, his mind blanking and eyes viewing only white as the neural interface drift was initiated. He could only dimly hear MSgt. Farell's voice as he worked to suppress any memory that might pull him in.

"Left hemisphere calibrated." The automated voice announced, drowning out Dr. Carter's heavy breathing in their ears. "Right hemisphere calibrated." There was a jarring feeling, as if something in their minds locked into place. "Pilot to Jaegar connection complete...calibration complete."

They linked easily in the drift, Cage pushing every fear he held too deep for Rita to find, and he ignored the lowly urge to probe into her memories. Rita was completely focused on the plan, the details running through the link, a distinct warning laced within her instructions. _Don't screw this up, Cage._

But he couldn't promise her he wouldn't, as much as he wanted to. He knew how this had to end. As much as he fought against fate, the tide pulled him ever on, to Rita's death and his own.

Cage's vision cleared, Rita already watching him with a grim expression. He nodded once to show he was ready.

"They're knocking at the door ladies. We need to get a move on." MSgt. Farell's usually boisterous tone was sharp and thin. Cage had the oddest feeling that Farell was afraid, though he'd heard enough lectures of war to know the man had fought in enough of them to last a lifetime.

Gipsy could be transported off base by one of two ways. Usually, if their destination was relatively close, Gipsy was driven out the hangar doors to the edge of the base and dropped straight into the ocean. Then they made their way to their destination by water. Traveling through the water quickly and with greater maneuverability was a necessity when dealing with the Mimics. They were still at a slight disadvantage. Mimics were not piloted, though Cage had the growing suspicion that they were controlled. They worked as a cohesive unit, reacting to each other as if they were simply one limb of a greater body, seemingly without thought or delay.

The other way took time, but it was their only option if all of them wanted to survive. They would have to step off the platform that usually transported them and walk the short distance to the airfield, providing necessary cover for Farell and Dr. Carter. In normal situations Gipsy could then be picked up using reinforced cables and airlifted to a destination with the required assistance of four helicopters, but they didn't have that luxury. Even if Dr. Carter knew how to pilot a helicopter like MSgt. Farell did, the attempt would be useless. Gipsy was too heavy for only two helicopters. So after they reached the airfield, Farell would pilot a single helicopter to a safer location, while Rita and Cage dove into the ocean and attempted to meet up with them. Everything depended on how many Mimics they faced. A Jaegar was built to withstand heavy damage, but being far outnumbered would mean death.

Farell turned to Dr. Carter, his mustache twitching as he spoke urgently. "As soon as the drift is initiated, we run. Understood?"

Carter could only nod, swallowing hard at the sound of metal against metal. This area of the compound was protected at every exit with reinforced doors, designed to give Jaegars the needed time to deploy in the event of an attack. There were procedures to follow, and there was always the implicit understanding that his life was expendable in the grand scheme of things. But he wanted to live, and if he wasn't here, he knew that Farell would forgo the attempt to make it out alive. He knew his duty. He might have suggested the plan for Rita and Cage's peace of mind, but he would not have executed it, willing to sacrifice himself for the woman he cared for as a daughter, and the man who could ensure she made it to safety. Carter knew he was a coward. He wasn't a soldier, just a simple engineer. And the sound of the Mimics trying to break through the doors terrified him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the automated voice. He was already moving towards the door when the drift procedure was initiated.

Rita was the first to move, Gipsy's right leg stepping off the platform, with only a slight hesitation before the left leg followed. Cage watched the progress of Farell and Dr. Carter. Dr. Carter veered off and ran towards the armored vehicles while Farell made his way to the massive hangar doors. Rita and Cage were at the doors in a few steps, ready to stop any Mimics that attempted to attack Farell. Dr. Carter drove up behind them, Farell already sprinting for the vehicle while the doors began to slide open.

They never made it to the airfield. They never made it out of the doors of the hangar. Rita and Cage were bombarded by dozens of Mimics as soon as the doors were wide enough. Farell made it into the vehicle, but it didn't matter in the end. It was everything Cage had feared. Rita was by far the fiercest of the two of them, slashing her blade and cutting apart the waves of Mimics. Cage activated the plasma cannon, tearing the Mimics apart, but he'd already resigned himself to death, a heavy feeling of inevitability settling on his shoulders. They had no chance. He heard the fearful and pained cries of Dr. Carter, his final scream cut off by a sick gurgle, but Farell died silently and Cage heard nothing from him. He could hear Rita in his ear, screaming at the Mimics, her pain tearing into him through the drift, overwhelming every single one of his senses, until her mind became his own. He could taste the metallic bite of blood in his mouth from Rita biting her tongue, feel the sweat sliding down her back, the painful chafing of the jacket against the exposed skin of her wrists where the fabric of her suit had been torn. He could hear Dr. Carter's final gasping breath as an echo, the metal screech of Mimics tearing into Gipsy twice as loud. He could smell blood and fear and sweat and almost gagged at the stench of it. And he could feel the grief, the denial she harbored at Farell's death. He'd done so much more for her than she'd ever asked for. Coached her through the first drift, been present at almost every one that followed. He'd been the one to tell her of Jamie's death, when she'd woken up from the hospital and had forgotten, for even just a moment. It was the softest she'd ever heard him speak before, and she'd pulled away from the sympathy he'd offered. He was all she had after her parent's died, after every one of her co-pilots died, the only person who'd been there from the start. And he was dead.

Her grief overwhelmed them both, but Cage was aware enough to realize when the hull was compromised, the top of the Conn-Podd tearing away. He twisted Gipsy's body, taking the brunt of the ensuing blow as the Mimic's attacked. His death was swift, several tentacles punching through his suit at once, one tearing directly into his heart. The last thing he heard was Rita's voice screaming in his ears.

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! Sorry about the long wait. There have been some big changes in my life recently. I am now the temporary guardian of my little brother. It's no surprise I have no time to write, while I attempt to settle into a new routine and rearrange my life around him (with absolutely no regrets). I will apologize in advance for the slower than usual updates. Right now he is the most important aspect of my life. Thanks for the patience! **

**This chapter is mostly a filler, an apology of sorts for the long wait. **

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Rita woke up screaming. Images tore at her consciousness, images of her death, of Ca ge watching her with anguish in his dark eyes. She relived her death over a dozen different times, through eyes that weren't her own. His feelings of despair, grief and pain overwhelmed her. There were too many memories to process, the emotions associated with each growing stronger with every ensuing moment. Sadness falling into despair, fear evolving into grief and heartbreak. Cage became another person before her eyes, the tearing ache of overworked limbs, the fine balance he'd kept for so long between hope and despair, the trauma he suffered, both mentally and physically as he died numerous times in quick succession. But worse was the obsession he gained with Rita herself, the need to save her, the desire that chipped away at his willpower, that urged him to taste her lips, just once, _just once_ before they died yet again. The possession he'd begun to feel for her, the jealousy that warred with guilt at her openness with Dr. Carter and MSgt. Farrell. She should be troubled, should be sick with pity and even fear, as she was faced with Cage's mindless focus on her. And yes, she felt a bone-deep pity, but it was overshadowed by shock. On closer inspection, she realized with rising horror and fascination that William Cage _loved_ her. He loved her, and she'd felt nothing for him in turn. Nothing except a self-enforced indifference that occasionally morphed into annoyance when he stared too long. And now she knew _why_. Why his eyes followed her when she was doing something as simple as gulping down water from a bottle, as simple as eating rations that tasted like sawdust on her tongue.

Rita barely made it to the toilet in time, the meager contents of her stomach emptying into the porcelain bowl with a sickening splash. It was only then that she acknowledged the pounding on her door, the panicked cries of Cage himself. And her first thought was _not again._ She waited anxiously for the blaring alarms that would indicate that time was up, but there was nothing to do but wait for another death. A quick glance at the alarm clock that rested on her bedside table indicated that it was barely 1 in the morning, her alarm set to go off in less than four hours.

She thanked Farrell silently for the seclusion of their rooms, the discreet distance placed between their facing rooms and the other pilots. She felt a flicker of amusement at all the times she'd pounded on Cage's door, on the reason why the action had started to seem strangely familiar, unsettling as the knocks seemed to echo in her head. She'd been picking up hints from Cage for weeks, perhaps slipping through cracks during the drift, memories that clung to her subconscious that she'd been able to ignore. The nagging feeling of déjà vu should have been the first internal alarm, but Rita was a master at self-deception. She'd forced herself to be, after suffering heartbreak one too many times when someone she hadn't wanted to care about died.

"I-I'm coming," she managed to croak out between chapped lips, her throat sharply painful with a need for water. Rita felt light headed as she rose to her feet unsteadily. She shut her eyes against the sudden bout of nausea, the flickers of memories that tried to intrude to the forefront of her mind. When she felt that she could move without throwing up, she leaned carefully, turning the tap on and gulping down water until she was coughing it out.

"I'm coming!" she announced once again as the pounding continued incessantly.

Rita barely avoiding getting hit in the face by Cage's knuckle as he attempted to knock as she opened the door. Rita glared at him, yet shifted awkwardly as she watched his gaze travel anxiously from her eyes down the length of her body. She could no longer deny that he looked worried, that the relief he felt was too immense for something as simple as a nightmare. She flinched as his hand reached out to her, settling with a painful grip around her arm. He shook her once, the tension relaxing from his shoulders as he touched her bare arms. And Rita could read the thoughts in his head as if they were her own. _She's safe, she's real_, repeated as a mantra in his head as Cage composed himself. This wasn't the first time he'd assured himself she was okay, though it was the first time in this particular situation. It was odd to see both sides, to know what he was thinking simply from the look in his eyes. The painful relief in his eyes was awkward for her to see. She didn't want this knowledge, she didn't need the added complication that Cage's feelings for her created.

"What do you want?" she demanded angrily. She sighed at Cage's flinch, aware that she was responding unreasonably when he was only showing concern. But at that moment she hated him, and herself. Hated him for the added complication to their already tumultuous relationship. She desperately wanted to return to yesterday, when she'd been able to ignore Cage, when she'd been convinced that she didn't care for what he wanted, what he felt, whether he lived or died. It was a callous outlook but it had helped her survive.

Cage flinched, stepping back. "You were screaming."

"And?"

Irritation flickered across Cage's face. "And I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Rita spread her arms out, gesturing once at herself before dropping her arms. "As you can see, I'm fine. No need to be banging at my door in the middle of the fucking night."

Cage froze at her hostile demeanor, taking in her hunched shoulders, her defensive posture. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it and shut it with an audible snap of teeth. He turned abruptly and walked to his room, closing his door. The soft click of the door seemed too final for Rita. He hadn't deserved her ire, and perhaps was wondering what he'd done to receive such a hostile reception. But then again, maybe he'd guessed the reason. Rita thought of going to his room and apologizing but she was still processing his memories, still attempting to cling to some distance.

Rita was afraid. Of Cage, of his feelings, of her own. His thoughts were clouding her mind, the ache of need he felt whenever he was around her was contagious, her skin itching with the need to touch him. It wasn't desire, it wasn't love, was fast becoming a necessity, plain and simple. She wanted to run her hands through his hair, already too long after a few short weeks. She wanted to touch his cheek, stroke the tempered line of his jaw to ease the clench of teeth. She wanted to touch her palm to his chest, to feel the skin warm and slick, his heart beating strong against her palm, proof that he yet lived. It wasn't desire and it wasn't love, but as much as she resisted, Rita was afraid that it could become either, or both.

And still she knew nothing about him, nothing except that he held secrets that weighed heavy on his conscience. That he loved her with a startling desperation, and that his love for her was blinding him to everything that was important. He wanted to stop the Mimics to ensure her safety, to save the world from an inevitable end. But he put her safety above that goal and it needed to stop. Rita fell into her bed with a heavy sigh, wondering once again why her life was so complicated. She fell asleep with Cage on her mind. It was no surprise that she dreamed of him the rest of the night.

XX

Rita's reaction times were slow, her mind weighed down by what had happened the day before, what would happen again today. If Cage noticed, he chose to ignore it, his own attention focused internally.

"I'm sorry Cage."

He was startled out of his contemplation by her voice. He didn't pretend to misunderstand what she was apologizing for, waving off her remorse as if the incident meant nothing. The old Rita might have accepted his apparent indifference, but then the old Rita wouldn't have reacted so strongly in the first place. She knew how much her actions had bothered him, had _hurt_ him.

"No Cage, I'm sorry…for _everything_."

He flinched, sighing at the determined set of her shoulders. "I'd wondered….you remember?"

Rita nodded jerkily, fighting the urge to run fast and far away from the wounded expression on his face. "Some of it, enough of it. How did it happen?"

Cage smiled bitterly. "Right to the point then?" Rita nodded once. "I don't know. I explained about the blue Mimic?"

"But…how did this happen?"

Cage shrugged helplessly. "I know as much as you do. I have no idea how the Mimics work, how they function, where the hell they even come from."

Rita frowned, her eyes brightening in sudden thought. "Dr. Carter! He's been studying the Mimics as much as he's been able to under the current circumstances. Maybe he could shed some light."

"It's worth a shot. I'm tired." And he was, so tired of being the only one who knew what was going to happen, the only person who carried the weight of their inevitable demise.

"I know." Rita showed her sympathy by placing her hand on his shoulder, hoping that he knew that she understood more than anyone else ever could.

XX

To say Dr. Carter was shocked by their bombardment of information was underwhelming in the extreme. He spent minutes explaining to them that what they proposed was impossible. It was only Rita that could finally get through to him, with sharply spoken words and a firm shake or two of his shoulders.

"Cage isn't lying. I've seen what he's seen, through the drift." Rita insisted.

Dr. Carter ran his fingers through his hair haphazardly, his expression conveying his disbelief. "What you see during the drift is subjective. Nightmares appear just as real, as vivid as memories. Maybe you thought-"

"I know what the hell I saw Carter." Rita gestured at Cage. "He's been living through hell. His memories are worse than any nightmare you could envision." She could see Carter was ready to deny the truth again. "Damn it Carter! I'm _not _crazy."

"I never suggested you were Rita." He glared at Cage. "Him, on the other hand…"

Cage glared at Carter, throwing his hands up in defeat. "He's not going to believe us, Rita. He never believes me. No one does."

Rita lifted an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Cage scowled. "I've tried explaining, to Carter, to Farell, even to General Brigham. It's no good. At best, they lock me up. At worst…" Cage shuddered. "At worst, they dissect me."

"They _what_?" Rita hadn't gotten any of those memories, but she felt suddenly queasy at the idea that they'd ripped Cage apart, and for what?

"Trust me, it's not pleasant."

"Why didn't you come to me?" Rita demanded.

"What if you remembered? What if you didn't believe me and remembered that?"

Rita stared at Cage with pity, understanding his fear, and feeling sick that he thought that she could ever do anything to hurt him, even indirectly. "Cage, I would never have turned you into Brigham."

"Both of you are clearly under a lot of stress. Perhaps I should recommend you be taken out of rotation, at least for a couple of weeks." Carter suggested with the most soothing tone he could summon, praying that Rita didn't punch him for the recommendation.

"Haven't you been listening to a single word I've said? We don't have a couple weeks, Carter! We don't even have a couple of days."

"Rita, you can't expect me to believe a word of this without a shred of proof." Carter sighed in frustration. "Granted, we know next to nothing about the Mimics, about any potential abilities they may possess. That doesn't mean I can believe that they can somehow start the day over on your word alone."

"Hands behind your back." Rita demanded. Carter listened, afraid she was going over the edge. "Hold up whatever number of fingers you want. You'll believe me next time."

"Rita, this is ridiculous."

"How many fingers?" Carter rolled his eyes in exasperation. "How many fingers, Dr. Carter?"

He pulled them from behind his back, waving two fingers at her. "Are you happy?"

"Not even close." Rita muttered.

The alarm started to blare, Cage closing his eyes in resignation. Rita swore viciously, already shoving Carter towards the terminal that controlled Gipsy.

"Time to suit up, Cage. We'll figure out the rest next time."

Cage nodded, trying his best to quell his nerves. "Rita?"

Rita turned towards him. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

She nodded once, promising herself that this time, Cage wouldn't be alone. Not at the end. "It's going to be okay," she reassured him.

Cage smiled ruefully. "It isn't, but that doesn't matter." _Now that you know_.

Rita offered a smile of her own. "I know."

**I realize I'm terrible at ending chapters. Thanks for reading!**


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